W Oh, that he would kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
For your love is more delightful than wine.

The fragrance of your perfume is intoxicating;
your name is perfume poured out.
No wonder young women adore you.

Take me with you—let us hurry.
Oh, that the king would bring me to his chambers.

Y We will rejoice and be glad for you;
we will praise your love more than wine.

W It is only right that they adore you.

W While the king is on his couch,
my perfume releases its fragrance.

My love is a sachet of myrrh to me,
spending the night between my breasts.

My love is a cluster of henna blossoms to me,
in the vineyards of En-gedi.

W How handsome you are, my love.
How delightful!
Our bed is lush with foliage;

M Like a lily among thorns,
so is my darling among the young women.

W Like an apricot tree among the trees of the forest,
so is my love among the young men.
I delight to sit in his shade,
and his fruit is sweet to my taste.

His left hand is under my head,
and his right arm embraces me.

Listen! My love is approaching.
Look! Here he comes,
leaping over the mountains,
bounding over the hills.

My love is like a gazelle
or a young stag.
Look, he is standing behind our wall,
gazing through the windows,
peering through the lattice.

For now the winter is past;
the rain has ended and gone away.

The blossoms appear in the countryside.
The time of singing has come,
and the turtledove’s cooing is heard in our land.

My dove, in the clefts of the rock,
in the crevices of the cliff,
let me see your face,
let me hear your voice;
for your voice is sweet,
and your face is lovely.

(W) Catch the foxes for us—
the little foxes that ruin the vineyards—
for our vineyards are in bloom.

W My love is mine and I am his;
he feeds among the lilies.

N What is this coming up from the wilderness
like columns of smoke,
scented with myrrh and frankincense
from every fragrant powder of the merchant?

It is Solomon’s royal litter
surrounded by 60 warriors
from the mighty of Israel.

He made its posts of silver,
its back of gold,
and its seat of purple.
Its interior is inlaid with love
by the young women of Jerusalem.

M How beautiful you are, my darling.
How very beautiful!
Behind your veil,
your eyes are doves.
Your hair is like a flock of goats
streaming down Mount Gilead.

Your lips are like a scarlet cord,
and your mouth is lovely.
Behind your veil,
your brow is like a slice of pomegranate.

Your neck is like the tower of David,
constructed in layers.
A thousand bucklers are hung on it—
all of them shields of warriors.

How delightful your love is, my sister, my bride.
Your love is much better than wine,
and the fragrance of your perfume than any balsam.

Your lips drip sweetness like the honeycomb, my bride.
Honey and milk are under your tongue.
The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

W I sleep, but my heart is awake.
A sound! My love is knocking!

M Open to me, my sister, my darling,
my dove, my perfect one.
For my head is drenched with dew,
my hair with droplets of the night.

Y What makes the one you love better than another,
most beautiful of women?
What makes him better than another,
that you would give us this charge?

W My love is fit and strong,
notable among ten thousand.

His head is purest gold.
His hair is wavy
and black as a raven.

His arms are rods of gold
set with topaz.
His body is an ivory panel
covered with sapphires.

His legs are alabaster pillars
set on pedestals of pure gold.
His presence is like Lebanon,
as majestic as the cedars.

His mouth is sweetness.
He is absolutely desirable.
This is my love, and this is my friend,
young women of Jerusalem.

>

I am my love’s and my love is mine;
he feeds among the lilies.

M You are as beautiful as Tirzah, my darling,
lovely as Jerusalem,
awe-inspiring as an army with banners.

Turn your eyes away from me,
for they captivate me.
Your hair is like a flock of goats
streaming down from Gilead.

Behind your veil,
your brow is like a slice of pomegranate.

But my dove, my virtuous one, is unique;
she is the favorite of her mother,
perfect to the one who gave her birth.
Women see her and declare her fortunate;
queens and concubines also, and they sing her praises:

Y Who is this who shines like the dawn—
as beautiful as the moon,
bright as the sun,
awe-inspiring as an army with banners?

Y Come back, come back, Shulammite!
Come back, come back, that we may look at you!

M Why are you looking at the Shulammite,
as you look at the dance of the two camps?

>

Your navel is a rounded bowl;
it never lacks mixed wine.
Your waist is a mound of wheat
surrounded by lilies.

Your neck is like a tower of ivory,
your eyes like pools in Heshbon
by the gate of Bath-rabbim.
Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon
looking toward Damascus.

Your stature is like a palm tree;
your breasts are clusters of fruit.

Your mouth is like fine wine—

W flowing smoothly for my love,
gliding past my lips and teeth!

I belong to my love,
and his desire is for me.

The mandrakes give off a fragrance,
and at our doors is every delicacy—
new as well as old.
I have treasured them up for you, my love.

>

His left hand is under my head,
and his right arm embraces me.

Y Who is this coming up from the wilderness,
leaning on the one she loves?

W I awakened you under the apricot tree.
There your mother conceived you;
there she conceived and gave you birth.

Set me as a seal on your heart,
as a seal on your arm.
For love is as strong as death;
ardent love is as unrelenting as Sheol.
Love’s flames are fiery flames—
the fiercest of all.

B Our sister is young;
she has no breasts.
What will we do for our sister
on the day she is spoken for?

If she is a wall,
we will build a silver parapet on it.
If she is a door,
we will enclose it with cedar planks.